


Parcel

by FadedSepia



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack, F/M, Gift Fic, Going too far, Obsession, Present Tense, Unrequited, i wrote this as a gift fic on serious cold meds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-19 08:42:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12407001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FadedSepia/pseuds/FadedSepia
Summary: They don't need to know her reasons...





	Parcel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Talliya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talliya/gifts).



She doesn’t care that she’s speed-walking down the hall. It’s Tuesday, and almost time.

A braided head pokes out from the corner office door, the man shaking his head as his boss walks by. He really hadn’t believed it, but his officemate is right. “Really? Every day, Q?”

“Every day. Four times every single day… Like clockwork.” Slightly shorter, a blond head peeks out from the doorway. “She gets tea every two hours…”

“Maybe she’s just… really thirsty?”

“How does she not explode?” Duo shakes his head to Quatre just as she rounds the corner, out of sight in a swish of black skirt and trailing purple cardigan.

Idiots. They have transcription they ought to be doing. She speeds her pace, low heels squeaking on the old linoleum. The janitorial staff must have waxed it during lunch, when she’d been in her office. Doesn’t matter, she needs to hurry. That phone call ran longer than expected, and it’s putting her behind schedule. She hurries toward the stairs, grip tightening on her mug.

Her research director falls into step beside her just as she reaches them, speaking as soon as she’s within hearing distance. As if she really cares right now.

“We’ve only got a 64% response rate for the biennial, and that’s before we actually clean out anyone who just answered ‘neither agree nor disagree.’ There has got to be a way to get at this data more accurately than-”

“Chang, I am busy at the moment.” She glances down at her watch: 13:47. At best, she has four minutes, and that’s if he isn’t early.

“Yes, but the meeting-”

They reach the first-floor landing. She can stop here, and he might not follow her to all the way to the front. Distractions are not something she can handle right now.

“The meeting is tomorrow. We’ll discuss the agenda and the new modules once you have clean data for me.” He is a perfectionist; that is sure to keep him busy. A curt nod, and she continues down the stairs, ignoring his muttered curses and stomping.

She hits the ground floor almost at a run, up on her toes so she won’t clop. The breakroom is in sight and – yes! – it looks like her mailbox is empty. Slowing so that she doesn’t startle anyone she hopes isn’t already in the breakroom, she makes her way to the water dispenser and sets down her mug. Scanning the room, she sees she is the only one there, too. Perfect!

She reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, only to notice her hair is still back. Shit! A yank and a headshake will have to do. Even if her hair is a wavy mess from being in a bun so long, she doesn’t have time to fix it now. The large hairpin is quickly shoved into her pocket, hands setting to finger combing her hair into something manageable.

Click. Kth-th-thunk.

The door, and his handcart coming up the entryway step. He’s here! Should she sit? Stand? She opts for feigning nonchalance, leaning as if she just happened to be refilling her cup.

The soft squeaks of the handcart reach her before he does. She concentrates on the slow trickle of hot water into her mug. Today she will do it. She will do it. She will –

He’s there, in the room with her. Deep breath. He’s only one man.

“Oh, um… hi. The office is usually empty. I’ll be out of your way soon.”

Fuck! Does his voice have to be that… that? Deeper breath. She will be brave.

She turns, fighting to make eye contact and not just stare down into the comfort of her mug. “I’m expecting a package, anyway.”

“Oh?” Is he smiling? Or staring? Is there something on her face? There must be. There’s pen on her face, and that wasn’t a smile at all, it was probably a smirk, and that’s all she can think about until he bends over to check the bag on his cart for a package and – NO! – She’s done staring! She is an adult! She will have a conversation!

“There’s no rush. I just came down to refill my teacup.” She lifts the cup in a slight salute, which he can’t see, of course, because he’s bent over and – Eyes up, damnit!

“Found it.” He’s walking over to her now, small parcel in hand, and she realizes just how tall he is, even compared to her. Not that she’s complaining because she can look up under that fall of hair and – She’s staring, again. He’s talking to her.

“Ms… Sorry, Doctor Une? Your package.”

The box is wrapped in packing paper and small, only about the size of a brick. She swallows a squeak as her fingers brush his hand, fighting the urge to clutch the box for security. She should say something, but she’s sure that was a smile, and she so wants to lose herself in those green eyes. “Thank you, um…”

“Trowa.”

“Trowa.” She wants to repeat it, but stops herself. Still, she should say something. “Yes, well… Thank you, Trowa.”

“Mm.” He’s already leaving, handcart squeaking in front of him, and she’s grateful. She has run out of banal conversation. She has probably burnt her hand, gripping the mug as she is. She has a good view. It isn’t so cold yet, so his uniform still includes shorts.

|~|~|

Une walks back to her office. She passes Chang’s office, discretely reaching to close the door. Can’t have language like _that_ filling the hallway. She rounds the corner, purposely sticking her head into the office to make eye contact and smile at Maxwell and Winner. Their confused whispers echo behind her as she walks to her office. She shuts the door behind her with her foot and walks to her chair. The mug isn’t steaming, but it’s still warm – Good.

She tears into the packing paper, she knows what this is after all, and opens the box inside. She draws out a paper wrapped foil packet, crinkling it with a giddy smile. A tear later, and she’s dropped the bag into her mug. She closes the box of tea, setting it on her shelf. The foil around the bag she tosses into the bin beside her desk. It lands next to an identical, now empty, tea box. As she drinks her tea, she takes a moment to wonder.

Was it worth it? Buying the tea? Mailing it to herself at work? Drinking through twenty bags a week?

Was it worth it? To actually talk to him? To brush her fingers against his? To learn his _name_?

She’s happy, and it’s good tea.

Yes. For two minutes on Tuesday, it’s worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> A gift fic for Talliya/@helmistress because she gifted me with a prompt fic this morning when I felt like crap, and I wanted to say thank you... so then I wrote crap.


End file.
